This Bed

March 28, 2011
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This bed could be my deathbed.
I could go right now.
My aching mind and muscles have numbed
as the sheets,
cold as satin,
cold as dirt,
have me tempered.
I could close my eyes
and never again lift their lids.
Read me a bedtime story,
my Last Rites,
as I lay here on this bed.

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